#Nonbinary Presenting nips

[thisnewdevilry]

On gender (sort of). Maybe.

I think I'm a little confused. Not that 'confused' is really the right word in this situation, to be honest, but I think that's rather the point of it, and hope it'll become apparent as I go on.

I had a conversation a few weeks back, the kind of group conversation that feels safe to share and comfortably investigate in the middle of a road-trip coming back frorn an athletic event, where everyone is fighting an adrenaline crash by way of snack food, 5-part choral singalongs, and assigning everyone on the team a Pokémon. This friend, a nonbinary transfemme, helpfully laid out the difference between body dysmorphia and body dysphoria - two terms I hadn't even realized I was conflating before then. During the conversation, another teammate said that they didn't really 'get' the idea of gender euphoria, mainly because they couldn't really feel any pull toward one or the other, instead connecting to a Tumblr-found phrase I suggested, "I don't know, I only work here."

And I'm... kinda there, too? I think? But I think I've got a few things in the way of feeling anything, definitively. I think I've got dysmorphia issues that eclipse being able to find any confident 'yes, that' sort of click, one way or another.

Let me explain.

I am awkwardly shaped, with a very faulty sense of self-esteem and confidence (when it works at all). I am over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and an H-cup chest. I've never felt any kind of resistance to identifying as female my whole life, save for the fact that it's always been a struggle to physically fit anything, and it swings to both sides of the spectrum. I like lacy, soft things, pretty and femme with dyed pink hair... but even 'size inclusive' brands tend not to carry anything that would fit my chest, or support my chest-to-ribcage ratio without hanging off my nips or overspilling the tiny triangles of coverage. Skirts and dresses are iffy because I don't like the risk of them riding up my much longer legs and torso to show undergarments. My skin isn't a big fan of foundation, and tends to dissolve it in sweaty patches the moment l'm in any kind of warm light. My eyelids are no better and can smear my attempts at elaborate eyeshadow in five minutes if I don't layer primer and fixative like a goddamn oil painting.

I also like structured suits, leather suspenders and heavy boots, flat-billed caps and kilts... strong, tall, a bit more masc-presenting; this is also imperfect, as what fits in the chest doesn't necessarily fit in the arm, and what is long enough in the leg pinches at my waist because of my wider hips. I have to compress my chest down if I want to fit in anything that doesn't hang far too large, and my shoulders and ribs bear those lines and creases. In either case, custom clothing is prohibitively expensive, and I try my best to avoid the heavily advertised lure of fast fashion.

I'm pretty sure that my closet is less a presentation of personal style than it is evidence of my thrift-store-based prey drive: if it fits, even just 'mostly', get it and make it work afterward, because you know from experience that you probably won't find anything better. Settle. Deal with it.

I am queer by way of bisexual, married for over a decade, feel pretty settled in she/her pronouns (maybe out of habit?), but I have been stewing over this for quite a while now. I don't know if l've ever felt gender euphoria, possibly because I don't think I've ever felt gender dysphoria either - I've always struggled just to fit in one or the other because I'm big, awkward, atypical, etc. My body dysmorphia has always been in the goddamned way. I tend to feel better just being naked (privately) because then I don't have to worry about all the places I don't fit into anything, but even then, I'm just... y'kņow, there. I exist.

Whee.

I mean, I know it's all a societal construct. know clothing isn't inherently gendered. I know I could choose either or both, but it feels like I can't reach that hurdle because it's halfway down the racetrack and I've got this massive fallen tree right in front of me. I don't physically fit, so I don't literally know where I fit, see? I'm not physically comfortable, so how could I feel mentally comfortable? How could I know how to feel mentally comfortable?

Do I go on a spending spree and resign myself to finding a tailoring service for every item I ever want to wear? Do I have two sections of my closet and just flip a coin every morning? Roll a D20 or three? Do I attempt some form of dressing room montage with a jury of peers (and my wife, of course) and learn how to take their word for it in the form of extensive notes and a grading scheme?

I just... hate being so hung up on having to fit anything, anywhere. I hate the word. It's an "f-word' to me on, like, three levels... and yet I still need to find what fits me in order to find what I fit in turn.

Hell, I just want to find what feels and looks good, so I can deal with whether or not I am as ambivalent/nonchalant toward gender as it appears from this particular vantage point.

(save me, Sexie by Eddie Izzard....)

[softness-and-shattering]

Some gender silliness from various top surgery videos ive seen lately

"....the assigned female at birth pads of chest fat"

Ah yes it was the birth gender assignation that created the chest fat, not estrogen puberty!

Multiple videos blurring someones nips before surgery, varyingly during, and not after. Ah yes this a man. He has female presenting nipples. Lets just remove the breast tissue, reattach em and now theyre male presenting nipples! It just took a couple hours! Two minutes of video time and suddenly the exact person exact nipples are suddenly permissible. Its a trip. A few were nonbinary people, cant see those nonbinary nips!! Even though the blurring obscures to the viewer the marks the surgeon was making for measurements and stuff.

Also one guy who seemed to be hyping up his medical team on camera and doong a bunch of gloved high fives over the passed-out patient like it was a fucking sports rally of some kind and not an operating theatre??

Also lots of suggested videos about like, documentaries about homelessness and drugs and shit as if top surgery is for yknow "troubled youth" or whatever.

Actually couldnt find that many videos but what i did see was all thin white people. Id like to see some fat folks actually? Some different body types?

[jplupine]

Day 18: Kazeshini ~ Unknown

Pairing: Kazeshini x Wynter Hughes [Nonbinary OC] Word Count: ~3.2k Date Published: October 18, 2023 WARNINGS: 18+ Minors/Ageless get blocked, Shadow Monster!Kazeshini, Exophilia, Switch!Kazeshini, Size Difference, Unknown, Biting, Teasing, Extra Limbs, Stalking Mention, Role Reversal, Vaginal Sex, Cock Riding, Hair Pulling, Creampie, Dub/Non-Con Note: Terms such as pussy/cock/dick/etc. get used. Wynter also uses terms like 'sweet boy' and 'cutie' to refer to Kazeshini. If that makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip this fic.

Summary: Wynter thinks they're dreaming when they're paid a visit from a shadow creature, so they decide to roll with the opportunity presented.

You can also read it on AO3!

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

  Laying down after a long day, I curled up under the thick duvet and closed my eyes. I was tired, it was late, and all I could think about was sleeping. The quiet room and night bugs outside lulled me to sleep under the warmth of the duvet.

  I dreamt of utter darkness and warm arms around me. I could faintly hear calm breathing near my ear as I was held, and I found it relaxing. But my strangely pleasant dream began to fade when I gradually began to wake up.

  Slowly blinking, I thought it'd be morning. However, it was still dark out, and the clock on the nightstand showed that it was only a little past 1 a.m. Softly sighing through my nose, I was about to go back to sleep when I felt something on my ankle.

  It was moving slowly over my skin, and the thought a rat was under my blanket crossed my mind. But then the warmth split into what felt like spread-out fingers. Slowly turning my head as fear began to chill my veins, I looked over my shoulder.

  Nothing was there.

  I could still feel the fingers around my ankle but saw nothing but a dark bedroom. The hand slid up my calf, and something moved behind me. I felt warm air hit the back of my thighs before there was a sharp nip near the hem of my shorts.

  Jolting from the sting, I threw back the duvet. I wasn't prepared to see what was truly there and froze with my eyes wide. It was a mass of shadow with no defined features other than the hand on my leg.

  I must still be dreaming.

  "Hello." A quiet voice purred before I felt a tongue glide across my thigh. Two glowing eyes opened and seemingly looked up at me as the dark shadow shifted and moved. More parts separated, and I could vaguely make out a humanoid shape. "I've been watching you for some time now, cutie." A mouth opened to show incredibly sharp teeth as the hand went further up my leg, and I was about to scream.

  The shadow pounced to quickly cover my mouth as my head hit the pillow. Looking up at it now, I could see what looked like long pointed ears and wild hair. It was so hard to tell what was what with how dark it was in the unlit room.

  "Shh, no need to scream. I'm not gonna hurt you." The voice was masculine, and its eyes closed halfway as it smirked. "Much." Its head lowered while the hand over my mouth pushed my face away. I tried to push the shadow creature back only to feel solid muscle, and the thing barely budged.

  Screaming and struggling, my efforts were fruitless, and its breath hit the side of my neck before warm lips did. I froze when his sharp teeth brushed over my throat. His tongue lapped over my throat and pulse, and I swallowed.

  This all felt too real to be a dream. Even how his thighs caged my hips against the mattress and how his sharp teeth scraped over my skin was too vivid. He kissed down the side of my neck and licked my collarbone.

  His face pulled away as his free hand grabbed my shirt collar to pull it down and expose more skin. With his fangs away from my neck now, I rammed my knee into what I assumed was his ass. He flew forward and face-planted into the pillow next to me, and I managed to flip him off me.

  I barely got one foot on the floor when he grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me back onto the bed. My back hit his chest as he grabbed my wrists and forced them together to be able to hold them with one hand. His breath hit my ear and cheek as his other arm wrapped around my waist to hold me in place.

  "You can't outrun me, so you might as well calm down."

  "What are you?" My voice was full of panic, and I saw two more arms made of shadows rise up from beneath me. They touched my hips before sliding up and pushing my shirt out of the way. Watching his palms travel up my stomach, I felt my skin tingle.

  "Yours for tonight." He whispered before chuckling. His fangs nipped the back of my neck, causing me to jolt as his hands went higher. "How cute."

  "This has to be a dream. It's just a dream. It's just a dream." I repeated, and his fingers found my nipples.

  "Oh, so you think I'm dreamy?" He nipped my ear as his fingers circled my nipples, and they were hardening in response to his touch. I bit my bottom lip, and his arm around my waist shifted to get that hand behind the waistband of my shorts. "Mmm, it's so nice to finally feel you." His tone was nearly a purr with his lips brushing against my neck.

  "F-Finally?" I swallowed, and he was rubbing my nipples with his other hand playing with the hem of my underwear.

  "I told you, I've been watching you for some time. Hearing you whimper in your sleep was the last fucking straw." His hand slid further down to cup my core with his fingers pressing against my labia. I jolted while taking in a sharp breath, and pressing my thighs together wasn't enough to get him to move his hand away.

  He sighed next to my ear while squeezing my chest, and he had yet to let go or even loosen his hold on my wrists. The hands on my chest slid down my torso and started pushing my shorts off.

  "Wait! Wait, wait, wait!" I squirmed, but he wasn't letting go.

  "For?"

  "I....I don't even know you."

  "What? You want me to fucking woo you first? We both know that's bullshit. Especially with how wet your pussy's getting." He pressed his fingers harder against me through my underwear.

  "That's not-"

  "Not what? Not you loving having a stranger touch you? Mmm, look at this pretty skin." His hands that had pushed my shorts down went between my knees before forcing my legs apart. He squeezed the flesh of my thighs while the hand over my underwear started rubbing with up and down motions.

  I had to fight the urge to rock my hips into his hand as my head fell back. My thighs twitched beneath his firm hands when his fingers circled my clit. He lifted his legs to keep mine spread to use his two extra hands to rip off my underwear.

  "Oh, you smell so damn good." He groaned and tossed my torn underwear to the side.

  "I liked those."

  "I don't care." He grabbed my hips to position them a little lower since he had me laying on him, and I felt something warm pressing against my ass. His lips were on my neck again as he kissed and nipped, and he shifted around beneath me as if he was pushing down pants.

  Something smacked against me, and I felt my heart hammering in my chest. Given the circumstances and current positioning, I could only assume it was his dick. Two of his hands were traveling up my sides while a third slid down my pelvis.

  His touch had lit a fire beneath my skin as his sharp teeth kept leaving marks on my neck. With his knees keeping mine spread and my clothes on the floor, there was nothing hindering his ability to touch my bare pussy any longer. His fingers slid in my arousal, and he groaned from feeling how wet I was. Using his fingers, he spread me open and tilted his hips to slot his cock between my lips.

  He was hot and thick, and my breath faltered when he rocked his hips, making his shaft rub against my clit. 'Just a dream. Just a dream.' I repeated in my head as my eyes closed.

  "You're being too quiet now." He sounded displeased but didn't stop rocking his hips to rub his cock against me. I could feel my arousal leaking down my ass and wetting his length with each slow thrust he gave.

  "Let go of my wrists."

  "You think I'm stupid? I'm not gonna have you swinging at me when I'm this close." He growled as his hands squeezed my chest. I wasn't going to ask again and quickly grabbed the nearest thing I could to yank on it. He yowled since I'd grabbed one of his long ears that felt like an animal's.

  His pain made him reflexively shove me off him, and I looked over to see him cradling his ear. At least, I could only guess since his body was just a mass of shadow in the dark room. His extra arms were gone now as well, and he began to growl.

  "You little-" He turned on me with a snarl, but I was already prepared and pinned him to the mattress. Holding one wrist against the pillow next to his head, I grabbed his jaw with my other hand to keep him still as I gently kissed the ear I'd pulled on.

  Looking down at him, I saw what looked like confusion on his face, but it was hard to be certain. The room was quiet as tension hung in the air from the uncertainty of what would happen next.

  "You're mine for tonight, you said?" I questioned, and he paused before hesitantly nodding. "And I really can't outrun you?" He shook his head as the confusion grew in his glowing eyes. "Then you picked the wrong bastard to fuck with if you think you can just push me around." My grip on his jaw tightened, and his eyes widened.

  "Oh, shit...." He muttered as I let go of his wrist to grab his cock and guide the tip to my entrance. I sank down and let out a shaky breath from feeling him deep inside. The shadow creature groaned, and my hand slowly released his jaw.

  Since I couldn't actually see his features, my fingers brushed over where his lips should be. They were soft as his warm breath hit my fingertips. I cupped his face in my hands while hovering over him and felt sharp cheekbones and an aquiline nose. Despite his animalistic ears and teeth, his face seemed to be quite humanoid.

  My hands went lower to touch down his neck and his chest as I explored the unknown. I could feel toned muscles along his torso as he leaned into my touch. He wasn't that broad, but he seemed rather tall.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Figuring out what's what." I replied as my hands went back up his stomach and chest. "Not bad, Mr. Monster." My tone was close to a purr as my fingers slid into his hair. His eyes closed halfway from my gentle touch before snapping wide open when I pulled his hair to force his head back.

  I made him bare his throat as I started fucking myself on his cock. He gave a strangled moan, and his hands flew to my hips to hang on. I kissed his throat as he bit his bottom lip to muffle the sounds he was making.

  If this was a dream, there'd be no harm in fucking him. If in the slim chance this was all real.... Well, this creature was clearly not intending to eat me and was well distracted by pleasure to keep from trying.

  "Oh, fuck~! Shit- You- Ngh~! Damn it!" He could hardly make a sentence and was noisier than I thought he'd be. Tilting my hips as I rode his cock, he groaned even louder since the new angle let him go deeper. I nipped the side of his neck, and he leaned his own head to the side to give me better access.

  I couldn't tell if I was actually leaving any marks on his skin, but he seemed to be enjoying my mouth on his neck regardless. His grip on my hips tightened before he forced me down on his cock as his hips bucked. I moaned along with him before pulling away from his neck.

  With my hands on his chest, I could see his sharp teeth but not his eyes since they were closed. He was panting and dug his feet into the mattress to be able to thrust his hips up more, driving his dick harder and deeper in time with my bouncing. It felt so good, and watching him writhe beneath me fueled me to keep going.

  "Is it as good as you thought it'd be, sweet boy?"

  "Better. Damn, you're so wet. Oh, fuck~!" His voice was breathy, and his glowing blue eyes opened to look down and watch me ride his cock. He gained a lopsided grin and grabbed my shirt to push it higher to expose my stomach.

  "Hold on." I sat up straight to pull my shirt off all the way before tossing it to the floor.

  "Lean back just a little more, cutie." I did as told, and his cock hit a spot that had pleasure sparking along my nerves. I grabbed his wrists to have something to hold while still riding him. Moaning, I picked up the pace as the muscles in my thighs flexed and relaxed, and he assisted in lifting my hips.

  His fingers dug into my skin with a near-bruising grip as he moaned with fangs bared like a snarling animal. It turned me on even more, and my head fell back with my eyes closed. I panted and basked in the pleasure making my head feel light and for my muscles to clench.

  My back suddenly hit the mattress, and I opened my eyes to see the shadow creature over me. He held my hips in place off the bed while smacking his pelvis into me wildly. I moaned and gripped the blanket beneath me in tight fists. His mouth was open from all the noises he was making with his tongue hanging out like a panting dog.

  I was immediately thinking of ways he could use that long tongue of his.

  This had to be one of my best dreams ever.

  Reaching up, I grabbed his face and pulled him down into a kiss. He was taken by surprise but quickly melted into it. I flipped our positions while still kissing him and ground my hips into his.

  The friction against my clit sent a shiver up my spine. Nipping his bottom lip, he opened his mouth to let my tongue to enter. We were moaning and groping, and I lost myself in the shadow creature. I could feel more hands squeezing and dragging nails over my skin as we rolled across the bed.

  I couldn't even tell where some of them were coming from. It was almost as if the shadows themselves had come to life to assist. It felt so good, and one of the hands found my clit as another pulled my hair.

  Moaning loudly, I felt his mouth on my throat. He groaned into my skin while drooling, and my nails dug into his shoulders. I could tell from his urgent thrusting and pushing as deep as he could go that he was going to cum soon.

  He tried to pull me even closer before his head fell back with a moan. I could feel his cock deep inside of me as he rutted and filled me. The hand on my clit didn't stop until my toes were curling with my orgasm.

  The shadow creature watched while making me ride out the high. When I was finally coming back down, the extra hands began to disappear.

  "Fuck." I panted while pushing my hair out of my face.

  "That all you got, cutie? Just one round?" The creature laughed, and I paused to think of how to respond. Without saying a word, I pulled myself out of bed even with cum leaking down my thighs. "Oi. What are you doing?"

  Bending over, I grabbed the box I kept under the bed and dropped it on the edge of the mattress. Opening it, I pulled out a leash and pulled it taut until it audibly snapped.

  "I've still got all night, brat." I watched his eyes widen as I grinned devilishly.

  "Oh, shit...."

  Waking up, I groaned while feeling my body ache. Sunlight filtered in through the cracks in the curtains, and I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Blinking a few times, I huffed.

  Why'd I have to get such a good dream but terrible sleep?

  I then noticed I could hear soft breathing other than my own and looked down to see a mass of wild hair. Freezing as my brain snapped awake, I was trying to figure out who the fuck was using my chest as a pillow.

  There was an arm draped over my waist, and I saw nearly pitch-black skin with a blood-red hue.

  Last night hadn't been a dream.

  Which explained the aching and the lack of sleep feeling.

  Without even thinking, I shot out of bed and went to the bathroom. With the door shut, I had my hands pressed together as if in prayer in front of my mouth while pacing the bathroom. The things I'd done last night.

  I was still naked and stopped to look in the mirror to see hickeys and love bites littering my skin. My ears burned, and I had to lean on the sink.

  "Okay, so I fucked a literal monster last night. And then woke up cuddling him." I muttered while looking at myself. "No, this can't be real. ....Can it?" My brows furrowed, and I slowly turned to look at the door.

  Nervously tapping my finger against the sink counter, the seconds ticked by. Taking in a deep breath through my nose, I slowly let it out through my mouth. Reaching for the doorknob, I opened the door to face whatever may be waiting on the other side.

  Sure enough, the monster was there and awake. He had his head propped up with his cheek resting in his hand while lying on his side. His glowing eyes were on me, and with the room being brighter, I could actually make out more details that had been impossible to see in the dark last night.

  "Good morning, cutie." He grinned, showing his mouth full of sharp teeth.

  "Good morning." I awkwardly shifted on my feet while thinking about how the shadow creature actually looked rather handsome.

  "Wondering why I'm still here?" He quirked up a brow while smirking. I nodded, and he held his chin. His expression matched his cocky tone now that I could actually see it. "I decided you can have me for more than just a night." There was a second of silence, and I couldn't help but chuckle behind my hand. His ear twitched as his smile fell. "What?"

  "Nothing, Kazeshini." His ears perked up at hearing me say his name, and he seemed to like that I had remembered it from last night. Perhaps I could get used to having the shadow monster around.

[or-fi-s]

Commission for Vanillayote

[welcometolotr]

yavanna & lenwë from the first oath fic series

[blurredshape]

Going in heat alone in the woods 🥺🏞️

[enbyonajourney]

Let us take a moment to appreciate this little 2 month glo up 👏🏻

[valhallanrose]

Monster Miriyam Headcanons

So, to preface, Miriyam is still technically human - her monster form comes about as a contract with her patron, the King of Swords, and manifests this way because she is halfway to becoming a member of his court. She’s essentially got one foot in the realms of the arcane, the other in her/the normal world - changing or transforming means pulling magic from the realm of the Suit of Swords and rather than expressing that through spells, does so through self modification. Hence the monster form, which was inspired off the Nyx Hydra design for the King of Swords in the Arcana tarot deck. She’s met with Arcana a few times now and while some very perceptive humans read her more as Arcana-adjacent than anything else, the Arcana very much believe that she’s human regardless of what form she takes. 

Size-wise, she’s about 7’2”, not including horns (horns make it a good 7’10”). Very muscular and definitely as strong, if not stronger than you think she is based on appearance alone. Prehensile tail. 

Miriyam doesn’t break this form out without a long conversation as to what she is (only held with potential long term partners, really, casual hookups don’t usually get to a personal enough point to warrant that)

Transforming is kind of gross, honestly? Like this is some very audible crunching/popping, like when you crack your knuckles but way louder, but it’s also a very fast paced change so you don’t hear it for every long

She’s got some habits from the monster side that have quickly become noticeable when she’s wandering about as a human. 

This includes enhanced sense of smell, hearing, and sight.

Smell and hearing are particularly intense, though, to where she can pick up on a mouse running on the palace marble or tell you exactly what spices someone mixed into a dish as soon as she stepped into the kitchens. 

Sight is trickier to quantify, but the average human with 20/20 vision can see the furthest edge at 3 miles away. Miriyam’s would be somewhere in the 4-5 mile range, while night vision is about 3-4 miles (assuming clear skies and no obstacles)

Very catlike? Loves to sun herself if she can find a private spot in the daytime, will purr if you scratch behind her ears, also easily tempted by shiny things (particularly gold shiny things, her eyes get bigger than her brain at the idea of Expanding the Instinctual Hoard)

Extremely embarrassed to admit she has a not insignificant collection of gold coins and trinkets she’s collected over the years based purely on instinct - she has no idea where half of it came from

Has gone and still goes on long flights, usually to get out when her nightmares get bad. While her secondary form isn’t necessarily a secret - she used it in the Coliseum during her brief time as a gladiator, and most of the guard is aware simply for the sake of ease - she still waits until nightfall for some sense of privacy. 

Her favorite place she’s ever gone was to the Scourgelands, where she flew through the southern lights, and she’s hoping to bring a partner there one day if they’d be alright taking the fast route. 

When it comes to fighting prowess, she’s absolutely a predator - armored scales, claws, fangs, speed, strength...fuck around and you will find out and yes I do mean that double entendre 

There’s some art refs under the cut from @anonbunnyart and @lajadelmira so you get an idea of what she looks like, and then we’re going to dive into the thirst. 

In case it isn’t clear: NSFW AHEAD, MINORS DNI, also obvious monsterfucking cw 

by anonbunnyart

by lajadelmira

Still cis, still a lesbian, so she’s still attracted exclusively to women and femme-presenting nonbinary people, the pool is only narrowed based on if her partner would ride the dragon. 

Yes I’ve made that joke many times, no I’m not going to stop making it. If I don’t, just assume I’m dead

Absolutely a top and a dominant top at that, convincing her to bottom when she’s in monster form is very, very difficult and usually only comes about in niche circumstances. More on that later. 

Addendum: She’s slightly more willing to bend if you want to use your hands/mouth, but straps are damn near impossible for her to get into when she has all of you right there to pay attention to. She’s not opposed to being touched, but she’d really just rather pay attention to her partner like this. 

Personal pleasure is very much just an afterthought, and honestly, she’s okay with that

Has several ‘weak spots’ on her body that will definitely turn her to putty, no matter how tough she acts. Done in sort of a sensitivity scale from least to most. 

Horns:

It’s not that they’re sensitive, but if you grab her by the horns and tell her exactly what you want to do her/her to do to you, she’ll find it very hard to tell you no.

Loves it and will take it as encouragement if she’s going down on her partner and they grab her by the horns when she does something they like. 

Tail:

Her tail is prehensile, and she will use that to her advantage, including fucking her partner with the tip of it (which is nice if her partner likes penetration, because finding a strap to fit her in draconic form is A Whole Nightmare)

However, she will go a little apeshit if you play with the tip otherwise - particularly if you suck on it - and honestly you’ll probably get pounced

Wings:

Quick note - Miriyam usually keeps her wings tucked fairly close to her back as a sort of protective measure, and she doesn’t usually like being on her back because she doesn’t like them being pinned, but can ease into it with a partner

Loves, loves, loves it if you touch her wings - the membranes are sensitive and just running your fingers across them makes her want to purr like a kitten

Fun fact, stimulating the right spot on her wings will actually make her orgasm. (That spot is on the wing membranes closest to her back, about halfway down, and no, that’s not something Miriyam will realize until she has a partner that wants to explore her physically like that)

Territorial. Absolutely a territorial bastard. She tries to tamp it down, she really does, but some days it’s harder than others. Particularly when she can pick up the scents of other people on her partner, that really kicks up the ‘mine’ instinct even if she logically knows nothing happened and trusts her partner fully

She really likes scent marking because of this - no, she won’t piss on you, that’s just the best term I can come up with - but she has a few approaches if she’s feeling like she needs to ‘stake her claim’

Lots of roaming hands and definitely letting her mouth wander, but if not directed to a specific spot she will absolutely go for a full bite on your pulse point to really just layer the scent in there

Tucks shed scales into the pockets of her partner’s clothing (jackets, shirts, pants, etc)

Or, a good old fashioned absolute obliteration - by which I mean she’ll fuck her partner until they’re an overstimulated puddle in her lap plus an orgasm for good measure - and then taking care of them afterward 

That being said, this definitely goes both ways, she will be raring to go if you just murmur a ‘mine’ in her ear - she’ll be eager to prove that yes, she is yours, and she’s not going anywhere

When it comes to actually doing the deed...

Favorite positions (in no particular order)

Partner pinned to the wall, any position, just. Pinned to the wall

One hand around both her partner’s wrists, legs spread out over her thighs, the other hand between their thighs or otherwise roaming

I feel like I should mention here that monster Miri has a habit of filing down at least the first two claws on each hand (middle and index) if she knows sex is on the table, she’s not out here to hurt her partner like that

Seated on the edge of the bed, ideally facing a mirror, with her partner in her lap. One hand/her tail tip between their thighs, and arm around their waist, chin on their shoulder watching them in the mirror

Yeah this is definitely a favorite of monster Miri’s 

A handful of things she enjoys (all with prior consent)

Primal (predator), some painplay (ft. claws, teeth, and a very strong grip), sensation play, overstimulation

Some turn-ons

Lingerie, but the shinier the better

Gold accents in particular will really make her go AWOOGA, she jokes it’s because of the gold dragon hoard but it’s actually not far off

Dirty talk/dirty...actions?

Just manhandle her she’ll think it’s hot

Any and all of the brat fighting words 

“What are you going to do about it?”, “Make me.”, etc

Honestly the more I think about it I’m not sure there’s an off switch so much as each side of the switch being fight or fuck. Like. Miriyam is always horny like this. She can chill but why would she in the privacy of her home/when she’s with her partner

This might be. TMI. But the scale plating over the fun parts is….retractable I guess? I don’t know what word I want but they’re not always out because that feels like a hazard. And unfortunately no nips like this because those are also a hazard, but her neck, ears, lower belly, and the previously mentioned areas are all very sensitive and prime for the touching. 

[hibibun]

A New Perspective

Series: The Magnus Archives Pairing: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims Summary: “Statement of Jonathan Sims regarding a tome that… appears to transmogrify humans to have catlike features. Statement given direct from subje—Ow,” Jon glares, trying to ignore the unintentional way he feels his newfound tail swish to reflect his annoyance, ears flattening. Elias’s normally well-manicured nails have elongated to claws, and currently one was digging through the thin fabric of his skirt and into his thigh.

“Oops,” Elias says, infuriatingly blasé. Jon hesitates another moment, before sighing and leaving the tape recorder going. If the topic ceased being important, surely it would turn itself off.

“You could at least pretend you didn’t do this on purpose.”

for day 5 - alternate universe Notes/Warnings: Catboy Leitner, Seduction to the Dark Side, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Asexual Character, Demisexual Jon, Nonbinary Jon, Intercrural Sex, Misuse of Beholding Powers, mild bloodplay this is the self indulgent fic i gifted to myself this week and by virtue of that very little set up for this AU dynamic. i just wanted to use the day five prompts for catboys and was encouraged. thank you theo for suggesting specifically catboy leitners.

also jon's gender identity is not super elaborated on here, but he has been experimenting with presentation and finding comfort in some more typically 'feminine' clothing, but hasn't given much thought to pronouns or labels beyond it yet. he just realized after hiding out at georgie's and needing to borrow her clothes again that wow skirts are nice and he deserves to feel good about that after everything that's happened. if i ever play around in this universe again, the progression may develop, but for now. here we go!

AO3

“Statement of Jonathan Sims regarding a tome that… appears to transmogrify humans to have catlike features. Statement given direct from subje—Ow,” Jon glares, trying to ignore the unintentional way he feels his newfound tail swish to reflect his annoyance, ears flattening. Elias’s normally well-manicured nails have elongated to claws, and currently one was digging through the thin fabric of his skirt and into his thigh.

“Oops,” Elias says, infuriatingly blasé. Jon hesitates another moment, before sighing and leaving the tape recorder going. If the topic ceased being important, surely it would turn itself off.

“You could at least pretend you didn’t do this on purpose.”

Elias makes a noise implying he’s listening, but doesn’t do much else besides repeat that same flexing of claws and Jon hates the hiss that leaves his mouth. It’s unnatural, and for that reason it catches Elias’s attention, an upturn to the corner of his already smiling mouth, which Jon recognizes as the man holding back laughter.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t curious,” he tries to justify knowing it to be the truth, but one Jon will protest.

“Yes, but I’m not so rash as to mess with any of those cursed things; which leads me to believe you knew what it would do,” Jon retorts, as there are now too many concerns and questions arising that he doesn’t know the answers to and will simply have to wait out. It is possible Elias knows, but extremely doubtful he’d tell him.

At least if he was stuck in this state as well that had to mean whatever they were in for couldn’t be dangerous—just unpleasant.

He shifts back trying to squirm away from Elias who had only been getting closer. It wasn’t like he had very many places to go what with being on the edge of the sofa and a coffee table in front of him. Next time, he’ll think twice about Elias asking if he’d like to see something in such a vague manner when he’s over. Not that he wasn’t prepared on some level for it to be undoubtedly supernatural, but this was something he hadn’t necessarily signed up for.

During his complaints, Elias has now fully managed to straddle the leg that isn’t pressed to the side of the couch, and Jon is mentally cataloguing the notion that whatever the book did to them, it must have made him feel the need to be twice as physically annoying. Surely.

“Still unpleasant?” Elias whispers, mouth ghosting the shell of his ear. He raises a hand to gently tug at the corner of one of Jon’s cat ears, observing the way it flicks out of his grasp.

“Get out of my head,” Jon bats at his shoulder, but doesn’t try to move away. Rather than pull again, Elias has moved on to experimenting with different petting styles. Reluctantly, Jon finds himself relaxing when his scratching lingers between his ears and drifting to the base of his neck.

“You were fond of this even before getting these, but it is interesting to see how you react now,” Elias starts, pleased in the way Jon’s eyes unwittingly close. “See, you’re even purring.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles back though any bite in it is absent. He’s content and this was Elias’s fault anyway, so he should deal with the consequences.

“You are fixing this after,” Jon cracks an eye open to stare at Elias, who was still scratching gently at his nape. He closes it again soon after, trying not to stress too much about how strange it felt to have appendages he shouldn’t.

“After?” Elias muses, closing their distance again this time to nip at his earlobe. The hand Jon had been resting on the arm of the sofa flinches, tearing into the cushion. The discrepancy between one calm activity and one that gives a very different implication startled him, and he certainly did not feel bad about the outcome.

“I’m not paying for that,” he lets out testily, followed by a short gasp as Elias begins making his way down his neck. In lieu of a proper response, Jon’s only given a hum before the bites turn sharper, harder. There’s a slightly different edge to it than usual, as if whatever the tome did even managed to sharpen Elias’s teeth, but it’s a detail he only thinks in passing.

As much as he complains about it, beyond familiarity, what makes these things bearable with someone like Elias is he can see and read his boundaries before even Jon realizes them. In that regard, he trusts the man. He shouldn’t, case in point with this whole situation, but he has only ever promised him the eventuality of answers and assurance they will be to his expectations. Jon may not enjoy or have wished for the experiences he’s had, but he knows deep down he doesn’t necessarily regret them as much as he should. Not when he knows now just what they’ve done for him. The answers they gave. The power.

He’s lost himself in that sometimes. The Knowing and the Seeing. He is forever seemingly a moth to that blindingly atrocious, yet beautiful light.

Something he had denied and feared for so long, but with Elias there’s freedom to it now. Acceptance. Even if his patience is constantly tried.

He inhales sharply as a hand unbuttons enough of his dress shirt to fondle a nipple. Gently, ever so gently that he barely catches on in time, Elias shifts his legs apart enough to press one knee to approximately where his crotch would be hidden under the folds of the skirt. A whine leaves him unintentionally because through the fabric it barely feels like anything at all, even as his cock twitches in response. Jon doesn’t need to voice his complaints—he knows Elias can hear them and feel them, but he knows similarly he won’t actually do anything until he speaks up.

Adjusting for discomfort immediately without question is one thing, making him beg as a form of consent is another.

“How would you like this?” Elias asks so simply. It’s the option for an out, but the question has thoughts and images rushing through Jon’s mind. Things they’ve done. Things he wouldn’t mind again right now. The burning question of whether their current ailments are causing any influence, and if that was another thing Elias knew and refused to share. Somehow, he doubts that part—which lends itself further to the theory that Elias had his own ideas and irritatingly is keeping them to himself.

The man in question smiles at him in a chiding way, applying a touch more pressure with his nails against the skin of his chest. “I believe I asked a question, Jon.”

Hesitantly, he grinds into that knee, still thinking things over. The question does make him want to hide, squirm away into that place he can go to when they start proper if Elias lets him. Usually though, like now, he’s dragging him out bit by bit—quite appropriate of one who wants to watch and strip him bare both physically and mentally.

He isn’t afraid of sex. On the surface, it is a messy activity that occasionally is worth the pleasure that comes with it. It’s the intimacy that comes with it, however, that truly scares him. That raw sensation of uncontrollable openness Jon has no way of hiding from. It’s terrifying, enthralling. But he’s found acceptance—Elias has accepted him. Wants it. Wants him.

Jon doesn’t vocalize what he’s thinking, but he does focus on one image. The fantasy of it playing behind his eyelids broadcasted for Elias and he must be feeling kind if he isn’t still pushing Jon to speak.

It might have something to do with putting them in this situation in the first place. Even then, Jon is surprised he’s being so nice.

“Very well, we can do that.” With all the grace Elias normally has, it feels even more fluid this time as he slinks off him and stands. Delicately, he leans down and presses the stop button on the tape recorder. They both know if it wants to keep recording, there will simply be another one waiting for them in the bedroom. Whatever else their new forms cause in this regard though is something even Jon is fighting himself on wanting to catalogue—not that he sincerely believes what they’re about to do has any relevance to how the tome has changed them.

He turns and heads there now, and in a daze, Jon moves to join him feeling much less graceful in comparison.

Jon typically hates showing skin wishing to avoid the sensation of feeling exposed. When clothed it’s easier to hide and vulnerability aside, it’s also simply easier to pretend his body isn’t nearly as scarred as he knows it is. Considering who’s looking, there won’t be the lingering and questioning stares like those of strangers when he’s on the tube. Right now at least, it’s freeing if only for the sheer fact his new tail has a little less pressure from the elastic that was pinching it to his back as he slips the skirt off. If this lasts longer than the next day or two, he’ll have to make adjustments to his clothes, but such a mundane fact is the last thing he has on his mind right now.

Elias is once again watching him seated from the bed, and that shiver returns as to why he doesn’t normally like to be naked. His expression reflects how effortlessly the man has mentioned that watching him is one of his favorite things to do, and Jon personally can’t understand it even now. It at least made sense when he was plotting; quietly maneuvering all the pieces on his elaborate board game, but maybe in a way he’s still doing that. After all, he had freely admitted that Jon learning his place on the board and coming to willingly take those moves on his own wasn’t a part of his initial plan—just one he seemed happy to see nonetheless.

Slowly, he unbuttons a few more buttons of his dress shirt, but ultimately leaves it on. Elias doesn’t comment, not even to tease on how it was more notably the top buttons below the collar he slips apart, and merely continues to watch. The way his ears flick just slightly, alongside how well he’s come to know the man are the only indications Jon has on any of it. His steps take him to beside the bed, and after a beat of hesitation, he straddles one of Elias’s knees and braces his hands on his shoulders.

Immediately, Elias’s hands find purchase on Jon’s hips, one hand drifting closer to his lower back. Jon lets out a shaky breath as that hand brushes just below the waistband of his pants where his new tail meets his skin. Jon shifts so it’s more of an embrace than a balancing act, wanting instead to hide in the crook of Elias’s shoulder as he slowly begins to guide himself along the other man’s thigh, moving closer so he can rut at his chest. He can feel himself already leaking and it’s embarrassing, not at all helped as the hand on his lower back starts playing with the sensitive tail he never asked for. As he’s starting to get comfortable, Elias tugs on the tail. Not sharp enough for genuine pain, but testing the sensation to see how Jon would react.

What he likely wasn’t expecting was for Jon’s hands to tighten their grip, impulsively shredding down the cloth of Elias’s dress shirt, tearing it enough for slivers of blood to rise at the newly made cuts.

It’s satisfying hearing the exhalation of pain soaked pleasure, a sure sign that the bastard got what he deserved and wouldn’t try that again. It’s less satisfying when it only dissolves into a chuckle as Elias moves his hand away, instead navigating Jon away from where he’d been trying to hide and into a kiss. He indulges him briefly, before biting Elias’s lower lip. None of this dissuades him though, and irritatingly Jon can tell it’s acting as encouragement.

At some point during the kiss, he’s moved back to holding him, and in short work, Elias slips the hand holding Jon’s waist under his thighs, lifting him just slightly to shift him properly on the bed. The movement is a little jarring, but more so that his tail seems to move on its own out of the way of being crushed by his back.

Elias hisses in a not quite human way himself as he slowly removes his now ruined shirt. Jon doesn’t feel the least bit sympathetic, instead a little entranced by the severity of the lines staining the back now facing him. An odd impulse to lick at the wounds flickers through his mind, and while he’s quick to dismiss it, it definitely catches Elias’s attention.

He sits back at the edge of the bed and looks over his shoulder at the Archivist sprawled. There’s no need to say out loud what his eyes say for him. So Jon sits up again and slinks forward to splay his hands on Elias’s back taking in the extent of the damage. In that same daze, he’s moved forward the rest of the way, tentatively licking up a bead of blood along the stripe of reddened skin. Jon feels more than hears Elias’s sigh and he snaps out of it.

“Elias… what exactly did you intend when you read from that book?”

A shiver wracks through Elias and Jon is startled as he didn’t think he’d been asking that earnestly. In truth, he hadn’t really been thinking at all.

There’s a pause as he catches his breath, and with deliberate patience to prove he’s still in control, only then does Elias offer an answer.

“I wanted to see what you would do,” he twists around, a familiar smile in place as he knows it isn’t a satisfactory answer at all, however true he means it. Jon’s frown speaks as much.

“Now then, will you let me finish undressing or were you not finished?”

His irritation bleeds into arousal as even though he’ll complain about everything else regarding their current state, Jon has been given the reins with this one. He remains where he is until Elias has left for the adjoining bathroom and then tries to get comfortable. It’s easier when there aren’t eyes directly on him, even if he knows truly that he’s never really free of them.

The brief sound of the faucet is calming, and by the time Elias returns his annoyance, while still present, has simmered back down. He joins him soon enough, and all at once again he feels the dual maddening sensation of being quietly observed in all its assurance and fear. He watches too though, as Elias kneels on the bed above him and traces his hands up Jon’s thighs causing shivers in their wake. Elias’s hands are still slightly cold and damp, and being exposed like this always makes him fidget.

“Would you be a dear and tell me what it is you’d like again? I believe in all that excitement, it must have slipped my mind,” Elias asks, fingers now playing along the waistband of Jon’s panties, not quite taking them off, but teasingly letting the silk fabric brush against his cock. Whatever amount of kindness he’d attributed the man earlier clearly meant nothing, and the smug smile presented towards him now only makes him bare his teeth.

“What does it matter if you’ll do as you like anyway?”

Elias lowers himself, his hands having abandoned their place at Jon’s waistband and now rucking up the bottom of his dress shirt. His breath ghosts the skin of Jon’s stomach before biting down and sucking harshly. Jon yelps and reaches for Elias’s head, though he doesn’t attempt to pull him off so much as tugs at his hair in response to the treatment—almost pulling at one of his cat ears instead. He only feels him moan in response, not letting up until he’s satisfied the mark will be a vibrant purple. The momentary lick Elias gives before pulling back has Jon thankful again that their tongues hadn’t been changed as well.

“I’m sure you’ll give me your input regardless. Now then, shall we?”

If he wasn’t busy panting, Jon would call him out for being a bastard, but judging from his expression Elias knows well enough what he’s thinking. Feeling Elias rub his hands along his sides is placating to a degree, but the motion is also a gentle reminder that he’s waiting for an answer.

“I-I don’t want any penetration—but between my thighs is fine,” Jon finally gets out, a twinge of annoyance at being forced to admit it out loud. The desire is in equal parts wanting an easier to clean mess and because he can’t see a particularly comfortable way to prepare for anything more with the state their nails are in. A fact that is likely obvious and one the man above him could have realized on his own, but he’s almost certain putting Jon in situations like this where he must confess his desires is pleasurable in its own way.

Still, for all his irritation, Elias moves back up and distracts him with a kiss. It’s difficult to tell whether he’s genuinely trying to ease the jittery sensation he’s caused or chase after it. It works in calming Jon down enough though that when he feels the palm of Elias’s hand brush and rub at the bulge threatening to escape his underwear, his nervousness doesn’t get in the way of enjoying it.

His noises are their own quiet admissions that he’s enjoying this and Elias happily swallows them all, pinching Jon’s lower lip between his teeth again as a reward. Jon has already seen the lengths Elias will deny him if he tries to quiet himself or close his eyes.

“Hold yourself for me,” Elias tells him, leaving one final kiss on the scar adorning his neck. Once they break, anticipation pools in Jon’s stomach. He’s slow and deliberate as he moves away again, finally sliding down the slightly soiled silk from Jon’s waist and watches him. It’s mystifying still for Jon, being looked at like this considering what he knows his body looks like. Yet, Elias looks at him like he’s everything, as bizarre as that feeling is.

“My Archivist… do you want to see for yourself?” The man muses in response no doubt once again reading what he’s thinking. Jon intends to say no or ignore the sentiment, but like the times before he’s shown anyway.

Through Elias’s eyes, he watches the man trace the remnants of worm holes, long scarred over. He trails down his arm and lingers on his hand, palm holding his burn scar as his thumb brushes along the faded pink scar Michael left him. He shivers again with the weight of that gaze. It’s more than simply being Seen when Elias talks to him like this he’s found.

It helps a little, oddly enough. Jon will never quite understand it beyond knowing Elias had a vision and a plan for him, but to be gazed at like this is nice.

Moments after, it’s disorienting to return to his own line of sight, and it takes him an extra minute to realize he’s supposed to position himself. He raises his hips, uncomfortably shifting to hold his legs together and hates the way Elias leaves him hanging like that. His prick is pressed against his stomach smearing precum, and he wants to look away out of embarrassment. The man is obviously just enjoying himself, but Jon’s tail swishes in impatience.

“Sheathe your claws, I was just admiring the view,” Elias reassures and closes their distance, taking a hold of Jon’s calves and places a hand on his hip. It helps significantly in easing Jon’s tension, no longer needing to hold himself up on his own. His breath hitches soon after though as he feels Elias position himself between his thighs. The sight is somehow more erotic even though what they’re doing is a mere pantomime of the act itself—though, it’s likely the similar enough sensation along with watching Elias’s cock move in and out that gets to him.

Jon doesn’t even quite know where to focus his attention after a point. There’s the aforementioned view of the act in question, his own body in frame next to it and then there is Elias. Usual, perfectly composed Elias is wonderful to view like this. Jon has more than once thought the man was obnoxiously beautiful to the point where his tastes and sense of decorum were annoyingly impressed upon Jon. Even the moment he’d divulged wanting to once more express himself outside the confines of what was thought to be strictly male business fashion, the man was relentless in his gifts of long silk skirts and dresses designed for galas he’d only attend once, maybe twice, if negotiated, a year.

Like this though, that carefully constructed image he pieced together fell to pieces. Jon knows by now, Elias isn’t ‘human’, that he himself is becoming less human as the days go on, but right now they’re doing something that feels unlike whatever godly status Elias strives for.

It’d be easier to lose himself in the sensation if allowed to close his eyes, but Jon knows and already sees the disappointed stare that would greet him if he tried. Perhaps more threatening is the awareness that Elias would do more than just that. His disappointment while devastating is nothing compared to the teasing and repeated denial he’d impose to get what he wants. To ensure that Jon knows better and acknowledges not only that he will watch, but that deep down Jon would prefer to see too.

Elias is mostly quiet above him, the set of heavier breaths come from the movement involved and surely the pleasure he’s feeling. Jon’s legs feel just as messy the more he feels Elias move, his member spreading slick precum between his thighs with each thrust.

He doesn’t notice himself how good the watching and the sensation of it make him feel, but Elias must as he shifts their position just slightly. Opening Jon’s thighs more, he slots himself in easily, instead moving the hand he’d been using to help hold the Archivist’s legs up to instead grip both their pricks and stroke them together.

Jon moans and arches into his touch, having it hit him all at once how desperately he’d been wanting that and wanting Elias close. Without needing to speak it, he’s granted the kiss he wanted, too lost in the feeling to realize how noisy he’s become with his mouth now open. When Elias tries to move back, Jon chases his mouth. The kiss resumes with a chuckle that Jon quickly silences with another bite.

“Eager thing aren’t you?” Elias teases him when they break next and too swept up in it all, Jon doesn’t even register the inhuman growl he lets out at being teased or denied contact once again. As to which bothered him worse, even he doesn’t know. Never once does it occur to Jon that he’s become less dependent on air when they kiss and that each time they break it is for different reasons entirely. Elias is pleased nonetheless from that reaction, and rewards him by increasing his pace just slightly.

His vision shifts dramatically as release hits him, Elias once again making his point loud and clear. Layered across his skin are dozens of eyes rapidly opening, and if he isn’t mistaken, there’s a few on Elias himself no doubt wanting to capture the event as thoroughly as possible. It borders on overwhelming. The fear of acknowledging himself like this—seeing the way Elias practically adores it.

Jon comes back to himself slowly, unsure if he’s uncomfortable by having to view himself that way or by distinctly how filthy he’s aware his stomach and legs have become. What’s worse is, as he looks down when Elias gets off the bed to fetch a washcloth for them, Jon sees his tail is still there.

There is absolutely no reason to think sex would fix this. Nothing suggested as much obviously, but it was a momentary distraction from how much the situation irked him. Now that it was over, he’s also aware that Elias likely had meant it as such. A poor attempt at changing the subject and maybe an even poorer excuse of an apology. No, the man wasn’t sorry in the least bit—he probably was genuinely excited by the inhumanity of it given how pleased he looked at… the eyes.

Jon shivers as he recalls that part too. It isn’t the first time he’s seen it, and while he’s made his choice, acceptance only comes sparingly. Whatever it meant to become the Archivist was something he’s given into. This change, he thinks trying to ignore his new appendages once more, however, he direly hopes is temporary.

For now, Jon finally closes his eyes and resolves to prod Elias for a proper answer when he returns.

[screamingatsquirrels]

I might deadass post my before and after pics on here of my breast reduction

Tumblr has an issue with “female presenting nipples” but they said nothing about nonbinary nips ✌🏼✌🏼

[or-fi-s]

*We've had an ottsky sona for a while, but the specific makeup has shifted a lot over time. Lavender specifically latched on to the ottsky the most, and when we were redesigning faer, fae wanted to include me and Orchid, since fae has lots of joint sonas with Lilac and Foxglove.

[splendidlyimperfect]

It’s been thirteen years since Natsu and Gray met in a program for troubled youth - since they both fell apart and helped put each other back together. Now they’re married and happy, loving each other and the shared family they found.But the past doesn’t always stay past, and when the things that broke them come back into their lives, Natsu and Gray have difficult decisions to make - ones that could change their lives forever.

Chapter Summary: Natsu and Gray celebrate their tenth anniversary.

Chapters (3/?): 1 | 2 | 3

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Rogue Cheney, Sting Eucliffe, Freed Justine, Laxus Dreyar, Wendy Marvell, Chelia Blendy, Ultear Milkovich, Lyon Vastia Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aged-Up Character(s), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Married Couple, Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Drug Addiction, Mental Health Issues, Foster Care, Family Issues, Grief/Mourning, Childhood Trauma, it's not as sad as it sounds, Bipolar Disorder, Adoption, Families of Choice, Nonbinary Character, Trans Character, Genderfluid Character, Forgiveness Series: Part 14 of the only hope for me is you, Part 2 of if you jump i’ll break your fall

-----

Natsu felt like he’d just fallen asleep when his phone buzzed under his pillow. He grumbled sleepily, sitting up and rubbing his face as he frowned at the time on the screen – 5:58 am. Then he realized who was calling and his face broke into a smile.  

“Hey, Noah,” he said softly as he answered the video call. He glanced over at Gray, who was still fast asleep, then flipped on the light next to the bed.  

There was no response from the little boy on the other end of the line, but Natsu didn’t expect one. Noah was in his pajamas, clutching a well-worn stuffed dragon to his chest and gazing at Natsu intently.  

“Sorry for waking you up.” Sting’s voice came from behind Noah. Natsu saw him settle down on the bed behind his son and run his fingers through Noah’s blond curls.

“No worries, you know you can call anytime,” Natsu said, settling back against the headboard and giving Noah a gentle smile. “What’s up, buddy?”  

Noah shook his head, turning and pressing his face against Sting’s chest. Sting kissed Noah's forehead, then yawned and rubbed his eyes.  

“He’s having trouble sleeping,” Sting explained. Natsu looked at the time again and did the mental math – it was three in the morning back in Magnolia.  

“Bad dreams?” Natsu asked gently. Noah nodded, staring down at Sting’s pajama pants and playing with a loose thread on them. “The dreamcatcher’s not helping?” Noah shook his head, clutching the stuffed dragon tighter.  

“We had a meeting with the social worker yesterday,” Sting explained as Noah curled up tighter against him. “Kylie was there.”  

Continue reading on AO3

Sting and Ryos had adopted Noah just over a year ago after fostering him for two years, but the adoption was tentatively open with Noah’s biological mother, Kylie.  

“No,” Noah said, voice muffled by Sting’s shirt. Natsu saw Sting pull out his phone and type something into it, and a text popped up at the top of Natsu’s screen.  

She’s been clean for six months and wants to visit him, but he doesn’t want to see her. He cried the whole way home yesterday and wouldn’t eat or talk... it feels like we're slipping backward again.  

Natsu gave Sting a sympathetic look. Before Sting and Rogue had fostered him, Noah's life had been traumatic at best. When Natsu had first met him, Noah hadn’t quite been two, and hadn’t even started walking. He hadn’t talked until he was almost three, and even now he struggled to express himself.  

Ryos wants to tell her no, Sting added. I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t know him. She doesn’t know what he needs.    

Sting rested his cheek on Noah’s head again, brushing the curls out of his face and kissing Noah’s forehead. Natsu stared at the text, trying to push away the angry sense of protectiveness he felt. Noah’s myriad of special needs weren’t easy to manage, and keeping him stable was a delicate balancing act.  

Natsu sighed, then looked at Noah again.

“Guess what?” Natsu said. Noah peeked up at Natsu, frowning. “Uncle Gray and I are getting your birthday present later today. You remember how old you’re gonna be?” Noah nodded, holding up five fingers and giving Natsu a tentative smile.  

“Wow, five! You’re gonna be bigger than me soon! You excited for your birthday?”  

Noah nodded again, but his face quickly turned serious. “Home, home, h-home… when?” he asked.  

“Three sleeps,” Natsu said reassuringly. Noah pouted and rubbed his eyes. “You think you can go back to sleep if I tell you a story?”  

Noah considered the question, looking up at Sting and then nodding.  

“Okay, get your butt back into bed,” Natsu said. Noah made a face but let Sting tuck him back in, then set the phone on the bedside table so Noah could still see Natsu.  

“Dad stay?” Noah asked. Sting curled up on the bed behind Noah, giving him a fond smile as Noah snuggled back against Sting’s chest. Sting mouthed thank you to Natsu before closing his eyes and almost instantly falling asleep.  

“Okay, little man,” Natsu said quietly, settling back down into his pillows and holding the phone up against his knees. “Once upon a time, there was a dragon and a brave prince...”  

-----

Gray woke up slowly to the sound of Natsu’s soft snores. Natsu was curled up against Gray’s back, and when Gray rolled over, he saw that Natsu’s phone was curled up in his hand with the screen still on. On the other end, Gray could just see Noah, curled up against Sting, both fast asleep.

Gray smiled, shaking his head before taking the phone and hanging up, then setting it on the bedside table. Natsu mumbled something, nudging Gray’s arm out of the way and curling up until his head was on Gray’s chest. He threw his leg over Gray’s thighs, trapping Gray against the bed.

“Hey, you,” Gray said, combing his fingers through Natsu’s hair. Natsu made a muffled sound against Gray’s chest, pushing his head up into the touch. “You get a late-night call from Noah again?”  

“Mm.” Natsu yawned and slipped his hand under Gray’s shirt, running his fingers over Gray’s stomach. “He couldn’t sleep.”  

“He probably misses you,” Gray said. “You haven’t been away from him for this long since you met him.”  

Natsu nodded, rubbing his thumb over Gray’s hip. “I miss him too,” he said. “It’s not just that, though.” He sighed. “Kylie wants to see him.”

Gray didn’t say anything, just combed out the knots in Natsu’s hair with his fingers and waited. Everything about Noah was complicated, but Natsu had dove head-first into the little boy’s life as soon as Ryos and Sting had decided to foster him. Natsu was more of a third parent to Noah than a family friend.

“I know she’s his mom,” Natsu said eventually. “It’s just…” He tipped his head up to look at Gray, who drew his fingers up the scars on Natsu’s arm. “It’s complicated.”  

“You wanna talk about it?” Gray asked.  

Natsu shook his head. Gray’s fingers continued up the path of Natsu’s scar, tracing the edges of it where it ran over his cheek, and the pale white marks at the corner of his lips. The sunny summer days had dotted freckles across Natsu’s nose, and Gray traced the lines between them while Natsu closed his eyes and hummed happily.  

“How about a distraction?” Gray suggested, rubbing his thumb across the tension in Natsu’s temple and then sliding his fingers back into Natsu’s hair. He dragged his fingernails across Natsu’s scalp and Natsu made a sound that was almost a purr.  

“Mmm. That feels nice.”  

“Yeah?” Gray smiled, shifting until he was up on one elbow. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Natsu’s neck as he kept running his fingers through Natsu’s hair. Natsu shivered, sliding his hand back down to Gray’s hip and pulling him closer.  

“Yeah.”  

Gray tightened his fingers in Natsu’s hair and tipped his head to the side, trailing kisses across his collarbone. “Guess what?” he murmured against Natsu’s skin. Natsu hummed. “’s our anniversary.”  

Natsu’s fingers tightened on Gray’s hip and he nudged Gray’s head up until they were looking at each other. Natsu’s smile was bright and sweet, and he pressed it to Gray’s lips as he nudged Gray up to straddle his legs.  

“Can’t believe you’ve put up with me for ten years,” Natsu murmured, rubbing his thumbs in circles over Gray’s hips, then running his fingers over the hem of Gray’s shirt and tugging it up over Gray’s head. “I’ve heard I’m kind of a pain in the ass.”  

“Mm. You are.” Gray sighed happily as Natsu ran his hands up Gray’s stomach, then dragged his nails gently back down Gray’s sides. “But since you’re pretty, I think I can overlook it.”  

“You think I’m pretty?” Natsu teased, slipping his thumbs into Gray’s boxers. Gray shifted his hips up, trying to move Natsu’s hands where he wanted them, but Natsu just laughed, sliding his hands around to grab Gray’s ass instead.  

“I think you’re gorgeous,” Gray replied, rocking his hips down and leaning down to catch Natsu’s breathy moan with his lips. “And mine.”  

Natsu pulled Gray against him, thrusting his hips up until they were grinding against each other and panting.  

“We’re gonna be late for breakfast with everyone,” Natsu said as he tugged Gray’s boxers down. “And they’re totally gonna know what we were up to.”  

Gray laughed, leaning down and nipping at Natsu’s ear. “It’s our anniversary,” he said, pressing kisses to Natsu’s neck. “Let them think whatever they want.”  

-----

Natsu leaned against the tree at the top of the hilly cemetery, staying in the shade and watching Gray lay a bouquet of flowers across his parents’ graves. The afternoon was already hot, and Natsu could feel beads of sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees.  

Ultear approached Gray and Natsu watched as he laughed at something she said. It was nice to see Gray happy here. The first few times they’d come, Gray hadn’t been able to do much but cry, but time had helped soften the pain.  

Natsu thought of the candles Gray had set up at their wedding in memory of his parents. Three blue lights for those people who had loved him so much.  

And a tiny red one for the people who hadn’t loved Natsu enough to stay.  

Natsu growled in frustration, pressing his forehead to his knees and squeezing his eyes shut. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about this?  

He chose to leave, Natsu thought, swallowing against the sudden press of tears behind his eyes. He left me, and he doesn’t care.  

Natsu pulled out his phone, opening the text from Wendy and staring at it. His thumb hovered over the ‘delete’ button, but he couldn’t bring himself to press it.  

Instead he flipped to his photos, scrolling up to one of him and Noah. It was from Noah’s second birthday party – six months after Rogue and Sting had started fostering him. Natsu had gotten Noah to smile for the first time that day, and Gray had caught it on camera – Noah’s pudgy hands on Natsu’s cheeks, eyes wide as he grinned.  

An ache pulled at Natsu’s chest as he stared at the photo. Noah had changed Natsu’s life, and the idea of leaving him made Natsu feel sick. Even when Noah had fits, when he screamed or broke things or refused to talk, the idea of quitting on him had never even entered Natsu’s mind.  

So what had Natsu done that had made his dad leave?    

The curiosity was starting to outweigh the anger, and it terrified Natsu. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and rubbed his face.  

“Uncle Natsu?”  

Natsu looked up to see Sylvie standing over him, holding out a coffee cup.  

“Hey, sunshine,” he said, pushing himself to his feet and dusting off his pants before taking the mug from her and wrapping an arm around her. “Nice shoes.”  

Sylvie grinned and scuffed a mark into the ground with Natsu’s old, well-worn combat boots. “Wanna go get our nails done later?” she asked, holding out her hand for inspection. Her black polish was chipping, and when Natsu looked at his own fingers, the sparkly blue was also peeling away.  

“Tomorrow?” he suggested. “Uncle Gray’s taking me on a fancy date tonight for our anniversary.” He bumped her with his hip, then added, “probably gonna be lots of kissing.”  

Sylvie batted him away, making a face. “You guys are so gross.”  

Natsu laughed, poking her and dodging out of the way of retaliation before skipping backward down the hill. “In fact,” he said, sticking his tongue out at her, “I think I’m gonna go kiss him right now, just for good measure.”  

The eye roll that Sylvie gave him was spectacular.  

“Hey, Snowflake,” Natsu said, slipping up next to Gray and kissing his cheek. “How’s it goin’?”  

“Good,” Gray said softly, wrapping his arm around Natsu’s waist.  

Natsu was quiet for a moment, looking down at the headstones. It hit him, suddenly, that he didn’t know where his mom was buried.  

Did it matter, though? She was nothing more than a stranger who loved drugs more than him.  

“You ready?” Gray asked, turning and kissing Natsu on the nose. Natsu could hear Sylvie groaning in embarrassment behind Gray, and the familiarity of the moment pulled him away from his thoughts.  

“Mhmm,” Natsu said, tucking his hand into Gray’s back pocket. “Let’s go celebrate.”  

-----

“See, the problem with this date,” Natsu said as they stared out of their glass cabin at the river, nearly two hundred feet below them, “is that you’ll never be able to top it.”  

Natsu leaned against Gray’s shoulder as he gazed down at the lights shining on the streets of Old Montréal. From the top of the giant ferris wheel, they could see for miles in every direction. The river wove beneath them, flashes of green and blue reflecting off its surface from the fireworks that exploded in the night sky.  

Gray laughed, leaning his head against Natsu’s and slipping their fingers together. Natsu brought their joined hands up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the ring on Gray’s finger, sighing happily as their cabin moved higher up into the air.  

“Happy anniversary,” Gray said softly.

“Mm,” Natsu replied, tipping his head up to catch Gray’s lips in a kiss. “Je t’aime.”  

“Je t’aime aussi, mon coeur,” Gray murmured against Natsu’s lips, shifting until they were facing each other and he could run his fingers through Natsu’s hair. He pulled Natsu closer, deepening the kiss and enjoying the soft, contented sounds Natsu made.  

“You think we’re gonna be up here long enough for me to get you undressed and dressed again?” Natsu teased, shivering as Gray’s fingers ran across the back of his neck.  

“You’re incorrigible,” Gray said, rolling his eyes. Natsu slid his hand up Gray’s thigh, nudging Gray’s head back until he could kiss Gray’s neck.  

“’s why you married me,” Natsu replied, breath hot against Gray’s skin. The fireworks continued behind them, lighting up the glass-walled cabin with brilliant shades of color. Gray sighed happily, running his fingers through Natsu’s hair.  

“I married you,” Gray said softly, “because you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’d be a wreck without you.”  

Gray could feel Natsu’s smile against his skin. “You’re such a sap,” Natsu said, pulling back and gazing at Gray. He brought a hand up and brushed Gray’s hair out of his face, his eyes dark and much more serious than they were a moment ago.  

“What?” Gray asked, frowning. Natsu smoothed his thumb over the wrinkle that appeared between Gray’s eyes, then kissed Gray’s nose.  

“I just love you,” Natsu said. He took both of Gray’s hands in his, looking down at the scars that ran across his arms – both from the fire, and from himself. “I know I’ve been kind of out of it the past few days. I’m sorry.”  

“Don’t apologize,” Gray said, shaking his head. “I know…” He hesitated. “I know you don’t like talking about it, but if you do wanna talk about your dad—”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Natsu said quietly. “You’re my family. You’re all I need.”  

Gray sighed, running his thumb over Natsu’s cheek. “Natsu,” he said gently, but Natsu interrupted him with a kiss.  

“Just...” Natsu trailed off, looking down at their joined hands. His voice turned very small and quiet as he said, “promise you won’t leave?”  

There it was. That quiet, sad desperation that had been following Natsu ever since their run-in with Wendy. Gray could feel it like a tangible thing around Natsu, and it made his heart ache.  

“I will  never  leave you,” Gray said, pressing their foreheads together and squeezing Natsu’s hands. “Never. That’s what this means, remember?” He ran his thumb over Natsu’s wedding ring, where the word  always  was engraved on the inside of the band. “Always and forever, okay?”  

Natsu nodded, and Gray could see the tears he was trying to hold back. Gray wrapped his arms around Natsu, pulling him close as they both stared out the window and listened to each other's heartbeats.  

“I’ll always be here,” Gray said gently. “No matter what, we always have each other.”  

[vixenvalleys]

tumblr gonna have to decide if junos nonbinary nips are female presenting or no but either way im probably just gonna move nsfw art to a locked twitter or sumn...stay tuned

[gmbencompetence]

Well, my right nipple presents femme but identifies as male. My left nip’s straight up nonbinary.

Your move, Tumblr.

[snarktheater]

Ghosts of the Shadow Market — Every Exquisite Thing

Today, we’re still hanging out with the gang from an unreleased book trilogy. And to be fair, we’re in much less angering territory than the previous story. So there’s that—we’re back to “mostly okay, but also, why isn’t this just fanfiction rather than a published work you’re expecting people to pay you money for?” So, you’ve been warned, this is mostly lacking in any kind of proper fire.

It’s also lacking in any kind of meaningful presence by one Jem Carstairs, which may be an interesting correlation. Then again, I didn’t hate Cast Long Shadows for Jem’s part in it, so…who knows, really.

Every Exquisite Thing focuses on Anna Lightwood. If you’ve been following, Anna is Gabriel Lightwood and Cecily Herondale’s oldest daughter. She’s also Christopher’s older sister, and as such, the modern-day Lightwoods' great-great-something-aunt.

Anna is also a nonbinary lesbian. I think that’s the best way to label her, seeing as she seems to still use she/her pronouns, is attracted to women and refers to it specifically in lesbian terms. But Every Exquisite Thing opens before she’s out of the closet. And I mean that both metaphorically and literally, seeing as she’s also in a closet at the start of the story.

Specifically, she’s in her brother Christopher’s wardrobe looking for clothes of his to steal and wear for herself in secret. See, she likes wearing men’s clothes and assuming a more manly presentation in general. This does come at the cost of criticizing the “girly” persona she’s forced to assume, and…you know, I’m not touching that one, because while rejection of femininity by women is its own problem, I feel like it’s excused for a genderqueer character.

Anna’s room was so different from her brother’s. Her walls were papered in a dusty rose […] Given her choice, the paper would be a rich, deep green, her decor black and gold. She would have a deep chaise longue on which she could read and smoke.

You get the gist.

Now, you may be thinking: “wait, she’s Cecily’s daughter, and Cecily couldn’t wait to be a warrior and use Shadowhunter fighting gear, so why is she even dressing up like a man in secret?” And if so: congrats, you spoiled yourself the end of the story. Thankfully, the conflict in the story isn’t really about her coming out as genderqueer, because otherwise this would be really dull to anyone who knows the previous generation of Shadowhunters (and Clare’s refusal to let her darlings show the slightest hint of modern-day intolerance, even if it would be justifiable in their own time).

So anyway. Anna retreats to her room with the stolen clothes to change. This is complete with telling us Anna doesn’t wear a corset ever, because feminism, and then describing her feelings on wearing men’s clothes.

Even in these clothes—stains and ham sandwiches and all—her confidence swelled. She was no longer a gangly girl who looked awkward in ribbons and flounces. Instead she looked elegant, her lean body complemented by more severe tailoring, the waistcoat nipping in her slim waist and flaring over her narrow hips.

She fantasizes about using Matthew’s clothes instead, since he’s the fashionable one, but even Christopher’s clothes, damaged as they are due to his one character trait being “mad science”, are good enough for now. She also fantasizes about charming young ladies in her attire, just so you know that yes, she is a lesbian, and then the plot kicks in in the form of Cecily calling her downstairs.

The plot, in this case, is Inquisitor Bridgestock and his family being in London, and since the Lightwoods are a big deal, they were invited for dinner to talk politics. Anna’s not pleased, but she has no choice. Cue meeting the Inquisitor’s family, and specifically, his only daughter Ariadne.

In the doorway of the dining room stood a girl, probably Anna’s age, in a midnight-blue dress. Her hair was jet black, like Anna’s, but fuller, more luxurious, deep as night sky against her soft brown skin. But what captured Anna were her eyes—eyes the color of topaz—large, the lashes thick.

Guess she’s our love interest for the evening.

Ariadne is from India, and was adopted by the Inquisitor after her parents died in a demon attack. She’s also involved in politics, even if her politics make no sense to me as she argues against a Shadowhunter currency…

“Shadowhunters are an international group. We must blend seamlessly with many international economies. Having our own currency would be a disaster.”

Like, it makes sense to use local currencies in the Institutes, but…what about Idris? What currency do they use there? Wouldn’t it make sense to pick a standard to trade in in your own country? Or do you just not need money in Idris? Is it a communist utopia where everything is free? Now that I think about it, I remember Clary getting weapons from a blacksmith in Idris, but I don’t remember her paying for it.

Anyway, back to Ariadne. She’s also very hot, hot enough for even Christopher to notice. If this seems like setup for something…it’s not. The book literally uses Christopher’s obliviousness as a way to highlight how hot Ariadne is. There’s a lot of purple prose about how hot Ariadne is. Plus some fantasizing on Anna’s part, who thinks Ariadne might be requiting her attraction, but isn’t sure if it’s her gaydar or her please-be-gaydar. And that’s pretty relatable, if I do say so myself.

After dinner, Ariadne shows Anna the library alone, just long enough to establish that Ariadne, in fact, is probably interested.

“I am modern and possessed of all sorts of advanced notions.” […] “Your brother’s eyes are quite extraordinary,” Ariadne noted. Anna heard this a good deal. Christopher’s eyes were lavender in color. “Yes,” Anna said. “He’s the good-looking one in the family.” “I quite disagree!” Ariadne exclaimed, looking surprised. “Gentlemen must compliment you all the time on the shade of your eyes.”

She also asks Anna to be her training partner, because she’s very late on combat training, and absolutely flirts with Anna in the process.

“You may find me clumsy.” Ariadne twisted her hands together. […] “You will have to be delicate with me, then,” Ariadne said, very softly.

The parents come in before this can go anywhere, and we soon cut to the Lightwoods on their ride home. It’s a fairly cute family moment, but there’s also a meaningful moment of Cecily asking her daughter what she thought of Ariadne.

And this is where I skip forward a little, because it turns out, most of the kids of Anna’s generations know about her being attracted to girls. So the conflict here seems to be mostly about whether her own parents know and what they’d think of it. But since it’s not brought up again until the very end (which I somewhat spoiled already), you can guess how tenuous this conflict is. Good thing we have a love interest to spice things up, right?

But first, this is where Brother Zachariah comes into play, as he’s still in the London Shadow Market. And yes, that includes referencing the previous story.

Tonight, he also glanced around to see if he spotted the vendor he had seen on one of his previous visits. […] She sold colorful potions, and Matthew Fairchild had purchased one and given it to his mother. It had taken all of Jem’s efforts to bring Charlotte back from death’s door. She had not been the same since, nor had Matthew.

I’m glad you’re finally acknowledging Charlotte’s grief…in a story where she’s not even present, and in a man’s point of view. Yeah, that’s a good way to treat your female character.

We also learn that Jem’s mission for Ragnor, which I’d assumed last night was looking for a cure for himself, is actually something else. He’s looking for the demon who sired Tessa, because now that her kids are manifesting powers of their own, she’s hoping that knowing the demon she’s descended from might help her…I don’t know, figure shit out.

Ragnor has made no progress, though. Oh, à propos of nothing, Jem also runs into Malcolm Fade, along with another warlock named Leopolda Stain. Who I’m sure is totally not a villain, by virtue of being friends with the villain from Lady Midnight. I mean, that’d just be ridic—

“Leopolda is a bit of an odd one,” Malcolm said. […] “She is … […] more connected, I suppose, to her demon side than her human side than most of us are.”

Yeah, no, she’s our villain for the evening.

But for now, let’s check back with Anna, who’s fixing the clothes she took from Christopher.

Anna was not a natural seamstress, but like all Shadowhunters, she possessed the basic skills to repair gear.

You…didn’t really need to justify that, but okay, I guess. If mentioning this may empower you.

While doing so, she muses about how differently people treat her when she’s wearing dresses compared to her wearing men’s clothes, which she’s only done twice so far. I’d say it doesn’t sound very statistically significant, but also I’m fairly sure it’s mostly hyperbolic on purpose.

[Women] looked at her soft lips, her long eyelashes, her blue eyes; they looked at her hips in tight trousers, the curve of her breasts under a man’s cotton shirt, and their eyes spoke to her in the secret language of women: You have taken their power for your own. You have stolen fire from the gods. Now come and make love to me, as Zeus made love to Danae, in a shower of gold.

I mean, maybe there is a secret language of women and this is how they all talk to each other in that language. I obviously wouldn’t know. But it does sound pretty hyperbolic to me.

Ariadne goes to visit her cousins at Gideon and Sophie’s house, mostly to stop angsting about Ariadne. This allows us to introduce Anna’s relationship to the other kids. By which I mean mostly just mention how hot James Herondale is, like all Herondale men.

Anna loved all of her cousins, but she had a very soft spot for James. He had been a somewhat awkward young boy, gentle and quiet and bookish. He had grown up into a young man Anna could see was extraordinarily handsome, like his father.

She tells them about Ariadne, but only as a potential training partner, but she seems to be mostly here to make plans with Matthew. And if there’s a surefire way to make my mood go sour, it’s Matthew Fairchild.

He and Anna often spoke of gentlemen’s fashion together, but today Anna noticed that his hair was a bit wild, and one of the buttons on his waistcoat was undone. These were small things, to be sure, but on Matthew, they spoke of something larger.

Oh no, the poor guy caused his mom to have a miscarriage because he was too dumb to just talk to her! Weep for him and his angst!

I swear I’m not going to harp on this too much. Although I will note now, before the rest of the plot unfolds, that Matthew is also responsible for the bad shit that will unfold in the rest of the story. Well, most of it, anyway. Because fuck Matthew Fairchild.

Specifically, he suggests to Anna that they go out to a place in “a nefarious corner of Soho” at night, and that she’ll have to put on a disguise to go. Needless to say, she takes the opportunity to dress with Christopher’s clothes. And because Matthew is a great friend, he shows up already drunk when they meet.

He had been like this a lot in recent weeks—what was fun and light about Matthew had taken on an edge. On some level, she felt a bit of worry rising.

This is no cute, this does not inspire sympathy, and to be fair, Anna’s absence of reaction beyond “a bit of worry” doesn’t make her look much better.

Anyway. The place is a…club? I think? Frequented by mundanes and Downworlders, including Woolsey Scott (who everyone knows is the head of the Praetor Lupus, you know, that oh-so-secret organization that the TMI cast wasn’t sure was real at all) and Yeats (because real people). And Leopolda Stain, because duh.

Oh, and creepy cultists, too.

Next to them was a woman wearing a gold turban scarf pinned with a sapphire. “Are you two of The Chosen?” she asked Matthew and Anna. […] “[Leopolda]’s going to help us,” the woman said. “Obviously, we’ve had such troubles here. Why, Crowley wasn’t even recognized here in London! He had to go to the Ahathoor Temple in Paris to be initiated to the grade of Adeptus Minor, which I’m sure you heard about.” […] “I was an Adept of the Isis-Urania temple, and I can assure you that I was adamant that—”

I guess Matthew didn’t learn anything from the previous story after all, because not only is this not alarming to either of them, but Matthew actually acts like he and Anna are also part of her cult, and she invites them to a private ceremony the next week.

“The faithful will be rewarded, I promise you. The ancient ones, so long hidden from us, shall be revealed.” “Of course,” Anna said, blinking. “Yes. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” While she was simply making conversation, Anna found that she would like to return to this place.

As Matthew and Anna leave, we cut to Jem, who’s just…watching them leave the house and thinking about how much Anna reminds him of Will. And then we cut to one week later, when Ariadne randomly shows up at the Lightwood house to ask Anna to train with her, after not talking to her the entire time. The training scene itself is mostly just Anna being too gay to function, and noting that Ariadne is in fact not that great at fighting, and ends with Anna inviting Ariadne to come with her that night to the house where the creepy cultist invited her to come back. I guess she didn’t pick up on the creepy cultist vibe.

So Anna dresses up like a man again that night, goes pick up Ariadne at her house (she’s wearing a dress, because I guess we have to keep the butch/femme dichotomy)…and they get stopped at the door by the bouncer. Ariadne’s reaction?

“Now I am curious,” Ariadne said. “We must go in, don’t you think?”

They climb up a drainpipe to the roof, and suddenly Ariadne is showing a lot more skill than she did during training. And when they get inside, they find Leopolda summoning a bunch of demons and sicking them on the human cultists. The girls engage in combat, and Jem shows up as well, since he was obviously tailing Leopolda since they met in the Shadow Market. Also, Ariadne fights with an electrum whip, which…is notable for some reason, although I’m not sure what that reason is, because the story never explains it. Same with how Ariadne can suddenly fight at all. Maybe she was just faking to get an excuse to get close to Anna?

Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself again. During the fight, they manage to contain the demons, but Anna gets wounded. Jem wants to heal her, but Ariadne says she learned healing techniques from the Silent Brothers herself, and she offers to take care of Anna while Jem goes after Leopolda. Jem…does, in spite of having no idea who Ariadne is. Luckily, it’s true, and Ariadne takes Anna back to her home and heals her. Also, some romantic tension…

Throughout all of this, Anna was silent, breathless. She did not feel pain. She felt only Ariadne’s careful hands on her.

…and resolution.

“I would like to kiss you,” Ariadne said. […] “Please, Anna, may I kiss you?” Unable to speak, Anna nodded.

They kiss, and Anna in fact spends the night here, mostly because she’s too weak to leave. It’s not made explicit if they have sex, and I don’t think it really matters.

Before we cut to morning, I do have to check back with Jem, though, since this is also where his involvement in the story ends. Remember how he was looking for Tessa’s demon dad? Yeah, turns out Leopola 1) knows about this in spite of it supposedly being a secret and 2) claims she knows who it is, and will reveal it to Jem in exchange for Shadowhunter blood. Jem is at least smart enough to say “that sounds like an evil plan, so, no.”

Actually, he’s even smarter than that. This exchange happens before Anna gets wounded, so after that, he goes after Leopolda. But he’s not actually on his own: turns out he had Woolsey Scott and the Praetor Lupus on alert as well, since Leopolda’s actions revealed the Shadow World to humans, which could be detrimental to all Downworlders. So we return to Jem meeting Scott at his home, and sure enough, he has Leopolda in custody.

She reiterates her bargain, but Jem’s not swayed. Apparently, her request for Shadowhunter blood is only so she can continue Mortmain’s work…somehow. And he won’t allow that.

Her lip curled. “But you are kind,” she said. "You are famous for it. You will not hurt me. […] That was my Shadowhunter self, he said. I have killed with this staff, though I prefer not to. Either you tell me what I wish to know, or you die. It is your choice.

She tells him Tessa’s father is a Greater Demon—a Prince of Hell, in fact—and “the greatest of Eidolon demons”. Didn’t we already know that? I don’t feel like re-reading all of my TID recaps, but it sounds like something we already knew. She won’t tell Jem the demon’s actual name, though, and so Jem…lets Scott’s werewolves kill her. Admittedly, she did try to fight her way out of here, but that still feels very…um…

Leopolda screamed and whirled on Jem, wide-eyed. “You said you would let me leave! You swore!” Jem felt very weary. I am not the one who is stopping you.

It feels villainous is what it feels like. “Oh, sure, I swore to let you walk free, but the werewolves, whom I had come here on purpose, didn’t!”

So Leopolda is dead, and this whole subplot was essentially useless to this story, so I assume this is going to be our “main” story thread uniting all the short stories? Only took three stories to get to it.

Let’s wrap up with Anna, shall we? She leaves Ariadne’s house early in the morning before anyone can spot her, but she’s giddy because…you know. Gay love. Except when she goes to visit Ariadne officially later that day (after catching some sleep), guess who’s visiting but Charles Fairchild. You know, Matthew’s older brother, who was born during TID? Well, he’s our random eleventh-hour drama for the night.

See, he’s just been named interim head of the Paris Institute for a year, and he’s the Consul’s son. In other words, he’s a perfect match, and Inquisitor Bridgestock wants to marry Ariadne to him. Anna is immediately shocked by this, because she lives in Edwardian England but is baffled by the concept of political marriages, I guess.

“Charles is quite a good match,” Ariadne said as if she were discussing the quality of a piece of cloth.

Ariadne’s argument boils down to “I don’t love him since I’m a lesbian, but I do want to be a mom”. Also, she refuses to come out because she’s adopted and fears her parents would reject her. Her offer is to have a secret relationship with Anna for a year, after which they’ll be over because she won’t cheat on Charles after they’re married.

Anna is not interested. Which, fair enough.

“Good-bye, Ariadne,” she managed, and staggered from the room.

She goes home to cry, Christopher tries to comfort her in his own awkward way, as does Cecily (minus the awkward part…I think).

“She broke your heart, didn’t she? Ariadne?” Anna was speechless. So her mother did know.

So…yeah. Cecily knew, and she’s fine with it.

“Mama,” she said. “You do not mind—that I might not get married, or have children?” "There are many Shadowhunter children orphaned, as Ariadne was, seeking loving homes, and I see no reason why you might not provide one someday. […] As “for marriage …” Cecily shrugged. “They said your Uncle Will could not be with your Aunt Tessa, that your Aunt Sophie and Uncle Gideon could not be together. […] Even where laws are unjust, hearts can find a way to be together. If you love someone, I have no doubt you will find a way to spend your life with them, Anna.”

She also knew about Anna crossdressing, and she’s fine with that too, going so far as to give her a specially tailored suit for her. So did Gabriel, as it turns out when Anna puts the suit on and joins the rest of her family for a walk in the park.

Of course, this begs the question: why now? If Cecily and Gabriel knew, why did they buy Anna dresses and decorate her room in a girly way that she hates? And if they had that suit, why wait for the most dramatic time to reveal it? Well, it doesn’t matter, because that’s not the point, I guess.

“I have always known you, my love,” Cecily said.

And…I mean, I’m sure this is empowering to someone who will read this. I personally feel like narratives where the parents (or other closed ones) already knew and were fine with it, while they certainly reflect a truth, really should be toned down at this point. Most queer people’s families don’t know, and don’t react positively to the announcement. But hey, I guess this is fiction, and it is a fantasy, and there are worse fantasies out there.

So Anna puts on her suit, and cuts her hair short, and she’s a new person. Oh, and Cecily also gives her the family necklace. Well, it’s not a family necklace yet at this point in the timeline, but…you know, the necklace that detects demons? Yeah, that one. I’m not sure why it’s there except to remind readers of a thing in the rest of the series, but it sure is there.

That was Every Exquisite Thing. As I said in my intro, it’s mostly okay, honestly. The Jem stuff feels even more extraneous as before, and I’m back to feeling like Anna’s story could have just been alluded to in her own books and left up for fans to actually write about, but it’s not the worst thing out there. And that’s really all I have to say about this.

[ecfandom]

Can we have some more soft non-conforming Lex HCs again? I really love those and need them in my life ~traveling abroad anon again. They/them.

“1. Clarke can see immediately the way Lexa stiffens at the “thank you m’am” tossed at her by a careless assistant on his way out. She watches Lexa stall in the hallway; watches those broad shoulders shrink slightly; watches the hand of discomfort come up to scratch unsure and insecure at the back of a neck; watches the crooked finger dip into the throat of the tie and tug and adjust. It breaks her heart every time. She’s quick to move, catching Lexa just as the boss is slipping behind closed office doors. “Hi,” she breathes at the look of surprise then relief. She runs her hands up Lexa’s chest, smoothes out already smooth lapels and centers a tie knot until she’s satisfied with her puttering. “You look so handsome,” she hums, looking up to catch those wide, trusting, vulnerable eyes. “I love you, Lex. You know that? My handsome love.” She gets a shaky, fervent, soft kiss in return. They don’t talk about it–enough has already been said.

2. “Hey you.” There’s a kiss on Lexa’s shoulder blade, then their shoulder. Arms wrap around their upper waist and a cheek is pressed to their spine. Clarke’s warm skin in the cool water of the balcony pool is soothing and comforting and sexy. Clarke’s hands run over Lexa’s torso, pads of fingers dragging along ridges of muscle and bone. “These are disgusting,” Clarke teases in a whisper when her hands rest on the rippling abs. Lexa laughs, low and husky, at the words and the playful nip felt on their back. “I like you like this,” Lexa hears next. It makes them smile. The city is alive at night with sirens and honking and car doors and a winding wind through buildings and lights flickering on and off and airplanes ascending and descending–but up here, wrapped up in each other, it’s the quietest Lexa has been in a long time; an inner quiet; a peacefulness. She feels happy.

3. “Is it difficult for you?” Clarke looks up from her script and stares at the friend sitting across from her in her trailer. “Why would it be difficult?” Raven shrugs. “I don’t know. Like to remember all the time? Especially if it’s wishy-washy.” “It’s not wishy washy. Pronouns aren’t wishy washy. It’s a vital part of one’s self-expression.” “Yeah, but hers–I mean, theirs, change. Isn’t that difficult for you to keep up with?” Clarke refrains from rolling her eyes because she knows her friend means well. She lowers her script to her lap, and digs in for the lecture. “If you told me that being called ‘differently abled’ bothered you one day because you were feeling weird about your leg that day and asked me not to talk about you in that way, I wouldn’t bat an eye. Would you?” Clarke watches it sink in. “Nobody looks at you weird when you tell them you don’t want to be pigeonholed as one thing. But when it comes to gender, suddenly you have to decide for the rest of your life. Imagine how daunting that would be for you–waking up one morning and having to decide for the rest of your life whether people would never acknowledge your leg ever again, good or bad, or whether they only ever acknowledged your leg.” Raven nods. “That makes sense.” “The world asks too much of people like Lex,” Clarke sighs, heart burdened by what Lexa has been through. “I just want to make it easy on them. Make them feel loved and safe and comfortable. I’d change Lexa’s pronouns on an hourly basis if that’s what made Lex feel good. You know?” Raven grins. “You love…them.” Smiling, nodding, picking up her script again because she knows she’s done good, Clarke chuckles. “Yeah, I do. I really do.”

4. “Can I interest you in our Mrs. & Mrs. line?” The over helpful store clerk pokes her head between the browsing couple. “We’ve just expanded our industry to be more accessible.” Clarke leans her head on Lexa’s arm and smiles politely. “No, we’re good. But thank you.” This seems to annoy the clerk who obviously seems very eager to show off her political correctness. “Are you sure? We have a whole variety for you ladies to pick from. I can show you some of our newer items over here.” Knowing Lexa hates scenes, Clarke bites her tongue and politely declines again, but still the clerk doesn’t let up, as if she has a point to prove. It’s the belligerence and the assuming that drives Clarke over the edge. With her hand comfortingly on Lexa’s back, Clarke sighs and turns to the woman.“No, really. We’re not interested, because see, if you were truly making an effort to be more accessible, you wouldn’t perpetuate the ridiculous binary norms of gender that society has forced on us and assume that two female-presenting people in a wedding store automatically want antiquated gender markers plastered all over their stuff.” Letting the clerk gape like a fish out of water, Clarke scratches Lexa’s back soothingly as they walk out of the store. Lexa is stiff and reserved all the way out to the sidewalk and Clarke is worried that she’s overstepped. But then Lexa laughs. Like really laughs and Clarke is stunned by the sudden sound of it. “What?” She asks, laughing herself. “Did you see her face? I think you broke her,” Lexa says, running their fingers through Clarke’s hair before leaning down to kiss her. “Thank you, Love” they murmur when Clarke sighs and loops her hands around Lexa’s neck, tugging them down further, keeping them close. “You’re perfect.” 

5. Lexa’s hand is slightly bigger than the tiny thing laying on their chest and it amazes Lexa. CJ is warm and soft and heavy as well as light in her sleep and Lexa is completely entranced. Lexa mindlessly runs their hand down the short length of CJ’s back, gentle over her head, dusting over the tiny diaper at the end. It’s a hot summer day, muggier than normal and it seems to penetrate even the thickets windows and shut doors. The AC is on full blast in the penthouse and still, Lexa’s skin shines with a thin layer of sweat and they’re glad they took off their shirt for some skin time with CJ. Lexa tucks their arm behind their head and and rustles the script in their hand, giving it a couple waves to fan air towards them, smiling when CJ stirs every so slightly. There’s a little noise that makes Lexa want to melt, a tiny shifting fist and curling toes before CJ settles again, burrowing her face into Lexa’s chest. It’s the most magical thing in the world Lexa thinks–no bra needed, no shirt to make them feel like there’s something inappropriate to cover up in the first place–just skin on skin, comfortable, natural, the way it all should be. Lexa curls up to plant a gentle kiss on the top of CJ’s head, and it almost sounds like a ‘thank you.’ 

6. The hallway is loud and stifling and unyielding. CJ sticks her head as far into her locker as she can and forces herself to count her breaths. Her knuckles are white from the vice grip she has on her locker door and the pencil in her other hand. “Ceej?” She bangs her head on the side of the metal hideout and curses under her breath. “Yeah?” “You okay?” CJ shakes her head before realizing her head can’t be seen. “No,” she squeaks. “I’m having a panic attack.” She feels a soft hand on her back and tries not to flinch. Her friend means well. “Can I help.” Swallowing, CJ closes her eyes. “Can I borrow your phone? Mine died.” A moment later, a phone is being clumsily passed into the locker and CJ does her best to squish it to her ear. She waits for each ring feeling like she’s going to pass out until she finally hears her parents’ voice. “Hi CJ.” CJ gasps for air and bursts into tears seemingly out of nowhere. “Nonny?” She cries. “I’m here, Ceej, what’s going on?” CJ shakes her head, her eyes tight against the tears. “CJ?��� “I’m having a panic attack,” she sputters. “Okay, that’s okay. You’re okay. Can you go someplace quiet?” CJ wipes her nose on her sweatshirt sleeve and pulls herself out of the locker. Her friend is still in toe when CJ pushes through the doors and curls up against a tree outside the front of the school. “I’m outside.” “Good. Let’s do some belly breathing.”  It takes ten minutes for CJ to calm down enough to get off the phone so that Lexa can come get her. It’s close enough to the end of the day that she might as well go home. She has gym last anyways…something she almost always skips. With red eyes and an embarrassed smile, she looks up at her worried friend. “Thanks,” she says, handing the phone back. “No problem. I thought your mom was in like Albania this week.” CJ squints up at her and uses her hand to shield against the sun. “She is. She’s shooting.” CJ sniffs and licks at her dry lips. She tugs on her friend’s sleeve, complaining about the sun and leans her head on her shoulder once her friend is next to her. “I thought she wasn’t reachable.”  “She’s not, really. I mean we facetime a couple times a week but she doesn’t get much cell service. She’ll be home next week though.” Her friend tilts her head in confusion. “But I thought that was your mom on the phone.” CJ shakes her head. “No, that was my nonny.” “Your what?” CJ laughs. “My nonny. My parent? You know…the things that nag too much and make you eat your vegetables.” It finally clicks. “Oh! You have two moms…how did I not know that?” CJ frowns. “Well probably because I don’t really have two moms. I don’t…I mean, I don’t see it that way.” “What do you mean?” “Well…” CJ scratches at the back of her neck, the spitting image of Lexa’s mannerisms. “I mean, I don’t really think of my nonny as my mom…like they’re just my parent.” “Well yeah, but like she’s your other mom, right?” CJ shrugs. “Nonny is my parent. That’s how I think of it. That’s how I’ve always thought of it. I don’t say my two moms, I say my parents.” Her friend chuckles. “Yeah, but why?” “Because I don’t gender my nonny. They’re nonbinary.” Her friends goes silent, then, “Oh. That’s cool.” CJ looks over at her and smiles. She nods. “Sorry I called…them? your mom. I didn’t know.” CJ bumps into her. “It’s cool. You didn’t know. “So what should I call them?” CJ grins. “You think you’re gonna meet my nonny?” “Well aren’t I picking you up for bowling on Friday.” CJ nods, smiling to herself now. “You think you can find your way to my house?” “It’s the giant building downtown. I think I can manage. Don’t make me the asshole who doesn’t know how to address your parents.” CJ laughs again. “You can just say Lexa.” “Just Lexa?” “Yep.” “You sure? I feel weird calling a parent by their name.” CJ pushes herself off the ground and helps her friend up. “Well you can’t say ‘nonny.’ That’s just for me,” she says with a wink and walks off towards the front doors